


The Journey Home

by bundushathur



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: After LOTR, Fluff and Angst, past character deaths, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-11
Updated: 2015-06-11
Packaged: 2018-04-03 21:00:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4114786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bundushathur/pseuds/bundushathur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Battle of the Pelennor Fields, Gimli and Legolas head homeward. Gimli has a difficult task once he reaches home, one he is hesitant in completing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Journey Home

**Author's Note:**

> This is a combination of book and movie versions. In the books, Gimli keeps the tome from Moria rather than Gandalf.
> 
> The characterizations are based on the film versions.

The Battle of the Pelennor Fields was won, Sauron defeated, King Aragorn Elessar had been crowned, and they had bid Gandalf and the Hobbits farewell. There was nothing left to do for a dwarf after war but turn north and head home, to Erebor.

As he was getting his saddle bags settled on his pony, he heard a rustling behind him, “For all the forest folk of Mirkwood are said to be light on their feet, I can still hear you sneaking behind me, elf.” He grumbled over his shoulder.

Legolas smiled as he leaned against the stable door, “Why do you assume I would be sneaking, perhaps I ensured I made noise so as not to frighten you.”

Gimli gave an inelegant snort, tightening another strap before turning to look at the elf. “You of all here know I am not so easily frightened. What is your business with me, I would hope you don’t intend to get sentimental.”

Legolas shrugged and stepped closer, “Not at all, I was actually curious if you would mind some company on your way north. I have been summoned to report to my father, and we would be travelling the same way.”

Gimli grunted, considering a moment, “Aye,” he conceded, “Though you’d best make haste, I’m not waiting for you to get all your trinkets put away just so for the journey.”

The elf hid a smile, “I was going to leave at first light and have had my horse saddled and ready since them, so in fact, I am waiting on you.” He turned and headed out of the stable to his horse, ignoring the glare he knew Gimli was sending him.

Gimli grumbled to himself as he adjusted the stirrup on his saddle and mounted. He knew he had much more of this insolence from Legolas on the journey, though, he had to admit to himself, he wouldn’t mind so much and it would make the journey shorter.

 

The journey was uneventful. Keeping the trees of the Mirkwood to the west they saw few travelers on their way north. The weather was fair and neither elf nor dwarf was in an exceptional hurry, so they took their time. Many days of fishing and hunting compounded with good natured bickering ended when the Old Forest Road that lead through Mirkwood crossed their path.

Gimli gave a short sigh and turned to bid Legolas farewell, only to realize the elf was looking further north, rather than westward further into the trees toward his father’s realm.

Gimli frowned, “What has caught your eye? Surely nothing that would be of worry after all we’ve been through?”

Legolas shook his head, not taking his eyes off the horizon, “It has been decades since I set eyes on Dale and Erebor, I was just considering that my father has been a time without any reports from the battle, a few weeks more will make little difference.” The elf turned his eyes to the dwarf with a raised brow, “If you don’t mind my joining you and allowing the men to see a true war hero?”

Gimli huffed to himself, “Don’t give yourself such credit, we both know I won our challenge, and there’s naught you can say to change the fact of it.” He shifted in his saddle and tilted his head, “Let’s be off then, I’ll show you true workmanship within the halls of Erebor, much more stable than the twirly work of you elves.”

 

A number of days later, Erebor loomed above them as they approached Dale. Legolas had noticed that Gimli had become quieter the closer they got to the mountain, and as they entered the town before the great gates, Gimli appeared almost huddled in his saddle.

Legolas looked around at the damage from the battles that were waged here, seeing despair in the eyes of those around him. These were a people who, while victorious, had lost much in the recent past. Legolas sighed and looked to the dwarf beside him.

“What has you out of sorts?” He asked.

“Nothing,” Gimli huffed, looking to the sky, “It’s late, and another half day to the gates of Erebor, we should probably find a tavern and stay here in Dale for the night.”

Legolas frowned, “I would think you would prefer to see your kin as soon as you could.” He gestured to the damaged town around them, “They have also seen battle. Do you not want to meet with them?”

Gimli’s eyes darted furtively around, a hand reaching instinctively to a saddle bag behind him. “I’ve had word that my father and mother survived, and that King Dain and King Brand were slain. The ravens brought word from the mountain and I sent word back that all was well with me. There is no harm in delaying a day to see the extent of the damage to Dale and meet the new king.” Gimli turned his pony and headed down the street toward a favoured tavern.

Legolas narrowed his eyes as he followed the dwarf, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were avoiding something.”

Gimli’s beard nearly bristled as he sat up in indignation, he spluttered to himself for a moment before huffing to himself and tossing a glare to the elf, “The only thing I’m avoiding is having you trounce me again at drinking. I still say the ale you were given was watered down!”

As they entered the tavern courtyard and got down from their mounts and settled them into the stables, Legolas noticed that the saddle bag Gimli had touched earlier was handled with special care compared to the others. While he couldn’t be certain of the contents in the bag, Legolas was beginning to guess, which lead to the reason why Gimli was so hesitant to enter the mountain.

Legolas smirked at Gimli, “To smooth your ruffled feathers, shall I buy your first round?”

Gimli gave the expected grumble, but was never one to turn down free ale, “Aye, though none of your elf wine, Dale has proper ale, and t’will be that which I drink.”

 

A few hours and more than a few rounds later, Legolas and Gimli were sitting off to the side of the tavern, their rooms having been arranged, and a meal lying mostly finished before them. Legolas watched as Gimli drained another tankard, the saddle bag tucked carefully beside him, the one item that Gimli had refused to let out of his sight.

Legolas sat back and nodded to the package at Gimli’s feet, “What have you got with you that’s so important it couldn’t be left in the rooms? Some special treasure you found under Helm’s Deep?” He hoped the ale would loosen Gimli’s tongue, allowing him to voice whatever it was that was bothering him.

Gimli’s face paled slightly, his eyes moving to the bag in question, as he considered the question, and whether to be truthful with the elf. He sighed, Legolas had been nothing but trustworthy throughout their travels, and a good sounding board when they hadn’t been at each other’s throats.

Gimli reached down and opened the bag, pulling from it the tome they had found in Moria. He placed it on the table and ran a reverent hand over the cover.

“Tis the history of the rise and fall of Balin’s kingdom in Moria.” He said quietly.

Legolas watched as Gimli carefully opened it to the final pages, wherein the deaths of the colony were written. “You dread revealing their fates to Erebor?” He asked quietly.

Gimli sighed, “Tis not an easy task, to be the bearer of such bad news, but the deaths of Balin, Oin, and the others will become parts of the legend of our people. Their stories will not go untold, thanks especially to the author of these histories.” Gimli ran a hand down the page and shook his head, “Tis the death of the writer that I dread to tell.”

Legolas frowned slightly, “Why would the death of a chronicler be so important?”

Gimli’s gaze rose from the book to Legolas’ eyes, “The chronicler is no random dwarf. T’was Ori, one of the company of Thorin Oakenshield.” Legolas’ brows rose in recognition as Gimli continued, “His remaining kin are two brothers, both who were quite protective over him. Dori, his eldest brother, attempted to convince him to remain in Erebor and let others go to Moria in his stead.” Gimli paused, sadness filling his eyes as he looked again to the final words in the book, “His death will not be an easy one for his brothers to take.”

Legolas nodded in understanding, finishing his wine and laying coin on the table for their meal and drinks, “Delaying the telling will not make the pain any less.” He rose and stretched, “Tis your decision how long you wish to tarry here in Dale. For now, I will leave you to your thoughts. I will be ready to leave for Erebor whenever you deem the time right.” He nodded to the dwarf and nimbly made his way through the crowded tavern and up the stairs to their rooms.

Gimli’s gaze followed the elf until he was out of sight before drifting back down to the open book. He sighed again, catching the barmaid’s attention for another ale.

He would bring the news of Moria to his kin tomorrow, for now, he was going to raise a drink in honour of all who had fallen in the recent war and before, knowing that the future was bright and that they had not given their lives in vain.


End file.
